


Supply Run

by prepare4trouble



Category: Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Frogfic, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prepare4trouble/pseuds/prepare4trouble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're out of holy water...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supply Run

Sam opened the front door to find Edgar and Alan standing on the porch staring at him with equally grim expressions. In the bright sunshine behind them, the serious looks on their faces appeared out of place. Sam's smile wavered slightly. He leaned against the door frame nonchalantly, his mind racing as he tried to think of what he could have done to merit this level of seriousness.

“Hey guys,” he said. “What's up?”

“We're out of holy water,” Edgar replied.

Sam briefly considered inviting them in, but the sunshine outside was so tempting the instead he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “Okay,” he said. “Have you guys been hunting? You told me there was 'minimal vampire activity' at the moment.”

As he spoke, he dropped the pitch of his voice and adopted a gruff almost growl that he thought made a passable impression of Edgar. He grinned and met Alan's eye, expecting some kind of acknowledgment of his impressionist prowess. His smile was met by a confused frown.

“What the hell was that?” Edgar asked.

Sam covered his mouth with a hand and cleared his throat. His grin widened to cover his embarrassment. “Frog in my throat. Get it?”

Edgar simply stared at him blankly, giving no clue as to whether he genuinely didn't understand the joke or whether he was pretending not to. The silence went on that little bit too long.

Sam cleared his throat again, glancing from brother to brother. “So, holy water.”

He sat down on the wooden boards of the porch and stretched out, relishing the feeling of the sun on his bare arms and legs. The Frogs were clad in their usual khaki and faux military getup, with no concession whatsoever to the fact that it was the hottest day of the year. Sam felt as though he was overheating in his t-shirt and shorts. Edgar wore black pants, and a faded t-shirt that had been black once upon a time, covered by a sleeveless denim jacket. His feet were encased in heavy Doc Martins. Alan wasn't much better, though he had at least refrained from adding an extra layer. That beret though, that couldn't be doing much to keep him cool.

“Why aren't you guys melting?” Sam wondered out loud.

Edgar reached out a hand and snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face. Sam jumped in surprise and glared at his friend accusingly.

“What did you...”

“Focus, Sam. Holy water.”

Sam shook his head. “Okay, chill out, it's not the end of the world. We'll just go get some more.” He frowned as a thought occurred to him. “Actually, why didn't you do it already? You have to pass a church to the from your place to here. Not that I don't appreciate you involving me, of course, but you could have restocked and been on the beach in the time it took you to get out here.”

“We don't go to the beach,” Alan informed him solemnly.

“I've seen you at the beach,” Sam said.

Edgar stretched out an arm and waved his hand in the air dismissively. “You made us go, Sam. Anyway, this isn't getting us any holy water, is it?”

Sam sighed theatrically as he got to his feet. “Fine, let's go get you some holy water.” He batted the space in front of his face with a hand, wafting warm air onto his damp skin, and picked up his bike that had been left abandoned on the ground outside the previous night. When he realized that Edgar and Alan weren't following his lead, he turned to look at them. “Guys?”

“We're banned from the church,” Alan told him.

Sam looked from one brother to the other, taking in the irritation and, in Edgar's case, embarrassment written there. He felt the corners of his lips begin to twitch upward in amusement, but suppressed the urge to laugh. Edgar's cheeks reddened slightly and he finally looked as though he was feeling the heat.

“Banned from church? Seriously? What for?”

Edgar folded his arms across his chest and glared at him. “Stealing holy water,” he said. “What else would it be? Vandalism?”

Sam lost the fight not to smile. “I didn't know they even banned people from churches. Aren't they all about forgiving and second chances?”

“They gave us a third chance,” Alan said.

In contrast to Edgar, Alan looked more amused than embarrassed. He shrugged dismissively, as though it didn't make any difference. As though being banned from a church was a normal, everyday occurrence for him, something inevitable and to be expected.

“Look, this isn't important,” Edgar said. “The point is, we can't go in without them calling the cops, so we need you to do it for us.”

Sam's smile faltered and his grip on the handlebars of his bike loosened slightly. “I don't know, guys. They've seen me once already, before we fought the vampires that attacked my house. I don't want to get banned too, my mom would kill me.”

“Would she literally kill you?” Edgar asked. “Because if we're not properly armed, the vampires will.”

“Couldn't we just go to a different church?” Sam tried. “I mean, if I get banned too, we'll have to do that next time anyway.”

Edgar's expression grew more embarrassed and he looked away.

“You're kidding.”

Edgar shook his head.

“How many?”

When Edgar didn't reply, Alan stepped in. “Four,” he said. “The next closest church we can go in is in the next town.”

“Great.” Sam sighed. Maybe you should go to the priests and tell them why you need the holy water. You never know, they might let you have it. I mean, you're on the same side, really.”

“They'd let us have it alright,” Edgar muttered darkly.

Alan's mild amusement morphed into a full smirk “He grabbed Edgar by the collar,” he explained. “I thought he was going to punch him in the face.”

“Man of God my ass,” Edgar said. “We're out there fighting the evil, he just sits around preaching at people about it and trying to stop us when we try to actually do something. We should be able to make our own holy water, we're twice as holy as that guy.”

“He called our parents,” Alan said. “Luckily, our dad was too out of it to follow what he was saying. I think the priest thinks we're in a cult.”

Edgar was still scowling deeply. Sam lowered his bike back to the ground and sat down on the porch next to him. Absently, he patted his friend's shoulder, earning himself an irritated scowl. “Lighten up, Edgar, It's pretty funny really.”

“You're not the one who nearly got his nose broken by a crazy priest.”

“But I might be,” Sam said. “If I do this.”

Edgar took a deep breath and sighed loudly. “We'll be careful,” he said. “We'll be in and out before he even realizes we're there.”

“I will, you mean,” Sam corrected. “I'm assuming this is going to be a solo mission.”

“We'll be right outside,” Edgar promised. 

Sam nodded. “Great. So when he chases me out, he'll see you guys and know I'm associating with delinquents.”

“And cult members,” Alan added.

“Fine, but you guys owe me big time for this.”

“Actually,” Edgar got to his feet descended to few steps to the ground and picked up his bike. “You're already paying us back for using the water we had in the first place.”

“Me?”

Alan nodded in agreement.

Sam shook his head. “We haven't come up against a vampire in weeks, and we train with water from the kitchen. I haven't touched your holy water.”

“Right, and then wrong,” Edgar told him. “We haven't fought any vampires, true, but you have touched the holy water. In fact, you drank it.”

Sam paused half way to mounting his bike and turned to look at Edgar with an expression of horror.

“ _What_?”

“The other day, on the boardwalk,” Alan supplied. “You asked if we had anything to drink. I showed you a flask and said 'only this.'”

Sam shook his head from side to side, staring at the brothers accusingly. “That was holy water? And you let me _drink_ it?”

“We didn't expect you to grab it and start glugging,” Edgar told him. “It was too late by then to stop you.”

Sam's hand covered his mouth as he began to feel nauseous. “I thought it tasted funny,” he said. “People put their hands in that. Their unwashed, grimy, sweaty...” he broke off as the nausea intensified.

“Lighten up, Sam,” Edgar said, parroting Sam's own words back at him. “It's pretty funny really.”

Sam glared, hand still covering his mouth.

“Seriously, calm down,” Edgar told him. “If it hasn't hurt you yet, it's probably not going to.”

“Why were you even carrying holy water around in the middle of the day?” Sam demanded. “It's not like you're going to get ambushed by vampires when the sun's out.”

Edgar stared at him incredulously.

“Make sure you're armed at all times,” Alan said. “We could have stayed out later than we planned, the sun could have gone down.”

“This is basic stuff, Sam,” Edgar told him. “We've been over it a hundred times.”

Sam shook his head. “Fine. But next time warn me, okay? Don't say 'I've got this,' say 'I've got this holy water,' it's not hard.” With the sun beating down on his head and the imagined tasted of the well used water in his mouth, Sam began to feel genuinely sick.

“Fine, deal. Lets go.” Edgar kicked off from the ground and began to pedal at high speed in the direction of town with Alan close behind him. Sam sighed loudly and began to follow them. It was too hot for this kind of thing.

* * *

The largest church in Santa Carla was also the one closest to the center of town. It was Edgar's favorite due to the distance between the font at the back and the front of the church where the priest might be standing. It was also left open all day, so that anyone could wander in for a quick pray, or confession, or whatever it was that people used a church for. That meant that there was a chance of getting in and out without being seen by anyone, or at least by anyone who might call the police.

As an additional bonus, it also was not the church that housed the punch-happy priest that had grabbed Edgar earlier that day.

Sam stood between the Frogs, inside the church grounds but outside the doors. “Are you guys allowed to be here?” he asked. Does the ban just apply to inside the building, or aren't you supposed to be here either?”

Edgar removed the backpack from his back and thrust it hard into Sam's chest. Raising his hands to defend himself, he get of of the handlebar of his bike and it fell forwards onto the ground. “I don't know,” Edgar said. “They never specified. Just get in, fill as many bottles as you can and get out again before we find out.”

Sam picked up his bike and leaned it across to Alan. “Here, hold this for me, I might have to grab it and run if we need a quick getaway.” He opened the bag and peered inside. It was full of empty plastic bottles and flasks. He looked up and met Edgar's eye. “All these? Seriously?”

“As many as you can,” Edgar told him. “The more you get, the longer it'll be before we need to come back.”

“You mean before _I_ need to.” Sam stared nervously at the large doors to the church. “Okay, wish me luck.”

Edgar shook his head. “You make your own luck,” he said.

Sam shook his head and turned away. He climbed the steps and pushed open the large double doors, not turning back to look at his friends.

He had never been in this church before. He had never really been in any church, excepting the last time he had stolen holy water with the Frog brothers. The doors opened directly into a large room filled with long, wooden benches. At the front, a large ornate carved display featured Jesus on the cross staring down at him disapprovingly. Sam scowled at him, he was doing something good here, the church should want to help.

The bowl of water was not large, but held enough water to keep them going for a while. He reached into the bag and pulled out the first bottle. He unscrewed the lid and thrust it into the water. A plume of bubbles rose up from the plastic container as the water pushed out the air. As the bottle filled, he glanced furtively around the room. There was no sign of anyone who worked there. Several people were scattered around the room sitting on their own, hands clasped together and heads bowed as they prayed.

When the bottle was completely full, he screwed the lid on and opened two more. This time, he thrust both of them into the water simultaneously and watched the bubbles rising, sounding loud and echoy in the silence of the large, cavernous room. It was much cooler in here than outside, yet he felt himself sweating as he watched the bottles fill slowly. He squeezed them lightly, and large bubbles erupted on the surface of the water.

He shoved the two full bottles back into the bag and returned two more empty ones. As he placed them in the water, he became aware that he was being watched. He scanned the room and located a man dressed in black standing somewhere to the side of the room, staring at him. The moment Sam's eyes made contact with his, he began to stride purposefully in his direction.

Sam gave the bottles one final squeeze, attempting to take as much of the dwindling supply of water as he could, then he turned and ran, pushing the double doors hard as he sped through and leaving them swinging behind him.

As he cleared the doors, he shoved the two bottles into the bag and slung it onto his back. He jumped down the steps and grabbed his bike from Alan. “Run, guys. Run!”

He jumped on the bike while already running, Edgar and Alan following closely behind him. Just as they left the church grounds, he turned to see the man standing at the door watching them go.

Edgar quickly overtook him as they sped away from the church. His heart was pounding far too hard and too quickly, sweat was beginning to pour down his face and stick the fabric of his t-shirt to his back, and suddenly, the situation began to seem hilarious. The further away they got from the danger, the funnier it seemed until Sam could no longer contain it and the amusement seemed to rise from his stomach and erupt into the world in the form of a nervous giggle. He imagined the man in the church staring after them in frustration, wondering what they wanted with his holy water.

Edgar skidded to a stop three blocks from the church, close enough to the boardwalk that Sam could hear faint strains of music on the air. He turned and saw Sam's hysterics, managed to look at him disapprovingly for a moment, and then joined in with his own laughter. Alan watched them, standing to the side with a smile.

“How much did you get?” Edgar asked finally.

Sam took a deep breath tried to still the trembling muscled in his stomach. He shrugged the bag from his shoulders and handed it to him. Edgar opened it, looked inside and nodded approvingly.

“You know, you guys could have come in really,” Sam said. “He didn't see me for a while, three of us would have filled more bottles.”

“But we'd have been more conspicuous,” Alan said.

Edgar glanced over Sam's red t-shirt and patterned Bermuda shorts and shook his head. “I don't think we would,” he said.

“Hey!” Sam protested.

Edgar dismounted his bike and began to push it in the direction of the music floating over from the boardwalk, taking his supplies back to base. As he did, he turned and glanced sideways at Sam. Not that he didn't enjoy Edgar looking at him, but something in this felt more intense than that, like Edgar was trying to look inside him. It felt uncomfortable.

“You won't be able to tell just by staring at him,” Alan said.

Edgar shrugged and turned away.

Sam burned with curiosity as he glanced from brother to brother. “Tell what?” he demanded.

Edgar shook his head. “It doesn't matter. It was just a theory.”

“A theory about me?” Sam slowed to a complete stop, hoping that the others would follow his lead. Instead, Edgar and Alan continued walking toward the shop, leaving Sam behind, watching them. He jogged to catch up. “Guys, come on. You can't say something like that and then leave it. You have to tell me!”

Edgar shrugged. “The holy water that you drank,” he said. “I just wondered if it would do anything to you.”

“Like what?” Sam asked. “Like make me sick, you mean? Because I didn't feel too good last night, I bet that was why.”

“No,” Edgar said quietly, shaking his head. “It was more about what would happen if a vampire bit you.”

Sam stopped walking again, unintentionally this time. Edgar and Alan stopped with him.

“Don't worry,” Alan said. “We're not going to test it out.”

“No, of course not,” Edgar agreed. “But it's possible, isn't it? The holy water would have to get into your blood, and once it was there, if a vampire bit you, it might kill them, or at least hurt them so they're easier to kill. Or make you taste so bad they don't want to bite you.”

Sam shrugged, “I think you'd have to drink a _lot_ of holy water, and trust me, you don't want to do that.”

Alan shook his head. “It would have to be clean water.”

“So we're talking about wandering into a church with a bottle of Evian and asking for it to be blessed?” Sam smirked. “I don't think that would go down much better than taking the water from the font.”

“Maybe not,” Alan said, “but I bet there's a priest or something somewhere that knows the truth, or one that we could make believe us.”

“I know,” Edgar said, with the air of someone who has been struck with divine inspiration, “we should get ordained.”

Sam laughed again and rolled his eyes. “Great idea, Edgar, but I'm pretty sure they ask questions when you join up, making sure people are there for the religion rather than the vampire hunting.”

“How great would it be though?” Edgar asked in a tone that made Sam wonder whether he hadn't been joking. “You could make as much holy water as you wanted. You could drink it, wash in it, become completely vampire-proof.”

Sam glanced at Alan for a clue as to how to react, but the other Frog looked as uncertain as he felt. “Yeah, if that vampire-proofing theory works. It'd be a lot of effort to find out it didn't.”

“True,” Edgar agreed, “but you have to admit it would be useful.” His hands tightened into fists and all traces of amusement disappeared from his face. “And I'd really like to be able to rub it in that Father Asshole's face, the guy who grabbed me.”

“Nah,” Sam said. “There are better ways of getting revenge, and better ways to get holy water.” He paused and looked Edgar up and down once, quickly. A smile sneaked its way onto his lips. “Ways that don't involve taking a vow of celibacy. Sorry, Edgar, I can't let you do that to... yourself.”

Edgar's eyes narrowed under the sweat-dampened bandanna tied around his head and Sam wondered briefly whether that comment was a step too far, then Edgar shrugged. The water in his bag sloshed against the sides of the bottles and he looked at Alan. “Actually, maybe we should test out the theory, since Sam's already drank some water, he might as well have some more...”

“What?” Sam began to protest, but stopped and shook his head. “Hilarious, Edgar. I know you're joking.”

Edgar began walking again, as though he didn't hear. Alan followed his lead.

Sam stared after them for a moment before he jogged to catch up. “You _are_ joking, right?”

They had to be.

Didn't they?

“Guys?”


End file.
